kesters and general practitioners of hijinks and frivolity. Much of my life has been spent around people who have an easier time being silly than being serious.

And I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.

But sometimes that sort of mentality gets me into trouble. I can’t tell you the amount of time I’ve gotten into a fit of the giggles at church; I mean, it’s been going on since I was old enough to sit in church.  

My brother and I laughed when it seemed as if an obese pastor was going to bob forward in the baptismal. I was sitting with a friend during a very serious service at the Methodist church once. 

The Methodist church was the fancy church in my hometown, where all the high-falutin folk went. Anyway, a friend of mine invited me to a service there, and someone’s stomach growled so loud that it sounded like a gurgling stream or something.

The stifling of our laughter almost caused an explosion.

I am famous for trying to yuk it up at the funeral home. I guess it’s my way of trying to help people, but it doesn’t always sit well with folks. I’ve gotten a lot of dirty looks at visitations. I’m usually someone who stands in the back.

I don’t know, it seems like the more serious a situation, the more funny stuff I notice. It doesn’t seem to be something I can control. If I had a dollar for every time someone told me to behave myself at such a function, I’d be a rich man.

Now that I’m in my last year of teaching, it seems as if I spend entire days laughing at school. Kids slay me, as they always did, really. I laugh at them when they are walking down the hall, or I laugh at their loud mouths, or I laugh at their little problems and idiosyncrasies.  

Not long ago at a school function, there was a group of about four teachers, including myself, standing around. We were watching a kid eat donuts. A couple of the teachers, newer to the profession, were discussing how many donuts the kid had put away and then talking about how concerning it was regarding the kid’s unhealthy eating habits.

The two other teachers in the group, a little more seasoned than the others, just stood there and laughed.  

It is beyond my control what the kid eats, so I just find it funny that he can sit there and get by with scarfing down that much food.

I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve been in a professional development class and lost my composure.

A certain group of teacher friends, who shall remain nameless, bring out the worst in me when it comes to stifling laughter.  I’ve often had to pretend I was coughing so that I can get out of the room and catch my breath from a laughing fit.

I used to be pretty good at phone pranks, but nowadays it’s hard to pull one off. Gone are the days when you could just call people up and play a joke. But heck, I can’t keep my composure long enough to instigate anything. 

Before I even get to the goal I set, I start to wheeze and shake uncontrollably.  It’s a lost cause.

It’s quite possible that my tombstone will say “He Died Laughing.” 

I’ve started noticing that I get some physical manifestations when I am gripped by an overwhelming fit of laughing. If I’m trying to hold it in, I get very hot and I’m sure my temperature escalates. If I begin to laugh uncontrollably, I feel at times as if I am blacking out. 

It’s possible that such laughter will cause me to stop breathing.  

My issues could be serious, and they may be no laughing matter.

But, you guessed it. I still laugh anyway.